


the only flaw, you are flawless

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, From a prompt exchange I did ages ago, M/M, Winter Christmas Larry Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll sing a few songs everyday and you can supply me with hot chocolate." <br/>"And cookies?" <br/>"And cookies." </p><p>or where Harry has an obsession with Cordelia's Cafe, Louis loves Christmas jumpers, Cordelia is basically Miley Cyrus minus the drugs, and everyone loves it when Harry sings songs about Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only flaw, you are flawless

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a fic exchange and all credit for the prompt is theirs. I just wrote it out, basically. 
> 
> Also, I don't write songs (I am not inclined to do so) so I basically used 1D songs. And they're not in chronological order. Deal with it. 
> 
> Title from 'Flawless' by The Neighbourhood.

Harry isn't particularly fond of college. He almost dislikes it, if he's being honest. The students are loud and rude, come to class drunk and high, and disrupt Harry's sleeping patterns with their obnoxious parties and drunken yells.

Okay, so he loathes it.

His only sanctity is the coffee shop off campus.

Because of the Starbucks on campus, it isn't busy ever, really.

It's usually just him, the owner, and a few elderly customers that come by every once and while and so Harry loves it.

He holds his books tighter to his chest as he walks toward it in late November, snow landing in heavy clumps on his head.

"Harry!" The owner, Cordelia, says as he walks in.

He hangs his coat on the rack, leaving his scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

There isn't anything special about the decor of the place. Soft benches and worn table tops, a beaten up piano in the corner, the smell of ground coffee beans and cookies, but that doesn't stop Harry from loving it.

"Delia," Harry smiles, soft.

Cordelia walks toward him and he laughs hard.

She's a short woman, probably only five feet even with blonde hair, cut short above her ears. She often jokes that she has the Miley look without the Miley reputation.

But that's not what he's laughing at.

She has on a pair of footy pajamas, bright green with a hood drawn over her head.

"The Grinch?" He cracks a grin.

"You bet." She smirks. "Go on. I'll bring you a mug over to your table."

She rolls her eyes, eyeing the books in his arms.

He has a big test in psychology tomorrow, so he'll be busy for a while.

"Thanks, Delia." He heads toward the table, opening his book and studying hard.

A few moments later, Delia places down a mug of hot chocolate onto the table and Harry glances up, smiling widely. He mutters a thanks before going back to the books.

;;

It's nearing six o'clock and the sun has long set when Harry begins to pack up his books.

"Hey," It's Delia yelling from across the counter.

Her hair's wild and untamed, her eyes bright in the dark cafe.

"Can you play me a song before you go? You're a beautiful pianist." She smiles.

"Definitely." He assures, placing his books back down and heading toward the piano. "What song?"

"Something...soft...and not Christmas-y." She smiles again, resting her head on his hands as he sits on the bench.

He quirks his lips up in a grin before beginning to play the beginning set to  _Stay With Me_  by  _Sam Smith_. It's been on the radio a lot lately and Harry finds himself playing it before he can even think about it.

He hums along, but somewhere along the way begins to sing aloud.

His voice fills the small cafe, bouncing beautifully off the walls as he feels himself unravel in the most empowering way.

He closes the song out with the finishing verse, feeling—for the first time since the beginning of the semester—calm.

"Wow," Delia says, awe-filled. "Can I hire you?"

"What?" Harry laughs, grinning.

She can't possibly want his wretched singing in her cafe.

"Seriously. Can I hire you?"

Harry thinks about it.

It wouldn't be the worst job, especially with the fantastic hot chocolate and warm air, but he isn't sure about the whole dedicating himself to the job thing.

"How about this...I'll sing a few songs everyday and you just supply me with hot chocolate?"

"And cookies?" She barters.

"And cookies." Harry assures.

"You've got a deal, Mr. Styles! Sing another!" She sets her chin in the air, laughing.

"Okay."

Harry presses his hands against the keys, drowning himself in Ed Sheeran's A Team.

;;

Harry feels like he did well on his psychology test as he leaves the class, sighing in relief that it hadn't been too hard.

Just on the basis of Freud and his take on psychosexual stages.

He stops at his dorm room, dumping his books onto the table before heading toward the cafe, ready for some hot chocolate and singing.

When he arrives, he notices that someone new is inside. A boy's sitting against the counter, sipping on something in a bright red mug.

Harry shrugs it off, reminding himself that the cafe isn't just  _his_. It's a public space, after all. He has no right to be so protective of it.

He pushes open the door, feeling the heated air and hearing the jingling of the bells.

"Delia, I'm here!" He calls, smiling softly.

"There's some sheet music up on the piano! Get singing, boy!" She sticks her head out of the kitchen, pointing toward the piano. "I'll bring your hot cocoa out as soon as I'm done with these cupcakes."

"Bring me one of those, too!" Harry calls after her, already seated on the piano bench.

The sheet music is sitting in two nice piles on top of the piano, so Harry grabs them, glancing at the names.

This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco and Migraine by Twenty One Pilots.

He shrugs, already knowing the songs, and begins to play the intro to _This Is Gospel._  


"This is gospel for the fallen ones," he begins to sing, losing himself in the keys.

The boy who is seated at the counter snaps his head up, glancing at Harry with wide eyes.

  
_Holy shit,_ Harry thinks inwardly, _he's hot as hell_.

Beautiful, really.

Brown hair, cerulean eyes, sharp facial features. He has a lopsided grin on his face, smile lines by his eyes, and he's so beautiful that Harry almost stops playing.

"This is gospel for the vagabonds. / Ne'er-do-wells and insufferable bastards," Harry sings, glancing down at the papers in a humiliating blush because the hot boy is  _still_  staring.

He finishes the song, looking up hurriedly at the boy who has turned his seat so he can see Harry in his entirety.

"You're amazing," the boy says, sideways smirk never leaving his lips. "Bloody hell, if I could sing like that...I wouldn't be going to college."

"Thank you." Harry says, voice low in the quietness of the cafe.

"Are you a student? At Imperial, that is."

"Yeah," Harry says.

He goes to Imperial for psychology and he isn't going to lie about it. Especially to someone as gorgeous as the blue-eyed boy.

"What's your major?"

"Psychology." Harry says, smiling a little.

"I'm majoring in Forensics...maybe I'll see you around." The boy says vaguely, setting his cup down and standing.

He's short and curvy and so goddamn beautiful that Harry sure he stops breathing for a moment.

"Maybe." Harry says, almost smiling but not quite, and watches the boy drop some money onto the counter.

He walks to the door, tying a bright red scarf around his neck as he does so, before winking at Harry.

"See you around, Piano Boy." And he leaves a flustered and yet surprisingly happy Harry.

Soon after, Delia comes out of the kitchen, green and red cupcake in hand.

"Merry Christmas, you filthy animal." She sneers, grinning, as she places it in front of Harry.

"Thank you very much." Harry says, picking it up and biting into it. "Bloody fantastic."

"Thank you very much." She laughs. "Play a song of your choice now. I'm not feeling Migraine anymore."

Harry almost pouts, because he loves Migraine, but withholds and nods.

"You got it, Delia." He says through a mouth of icing.

"Gross," she mumbles. "Keep your mouth shut."

She saunters away, leaving Harry to finish his cupcake and decide on a song.

After he finishes the cupcake, he begins to play.

"Going back to the corner where I first saw you / gonna camp in my sleeping bag," Harry sings, fingers dancing across the keys elegantly. "I'm not gonna move."

He sees Delia in his peripheral vision, peeking her blonde head out of the kitchen and shaking her head, a grin on her face. She speaks just as finishes up the song.

"You are possibly the best college student slash singer I've ever met," she mumbles, biting her lip. "You'll be back tomorrow, right?"

"You bet I will. I'll even bring my own sheet music." Harry practically beams.

He's blushing, though, because she's just openly complimented him.

He's never been one to gracefully accept a compliment.

"Okay." Delia says. "Thanks again, dude."

"No problem." Harry stands up, gathering his things and heading out toward his lonely dorm.

;;

Harry goes to the café for the next three days without seeing the blue-eyed boy.

He's begun to worry that he'll never see him again as he sits at the piano day after day.

But four days after he met him, the boy's there, mug in hand.

Harry grins to himself as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack.

It's Friday and Harry has free time to not study and write essays, so he heads straight to the piano.

There's a song on the top of it that Harry doesn't immediately recognize by the name or artist.

Harry just shrugs, figuring Cordelia's taste's gotten a little too extensive for Harry's knowledge as he begins to play.

The song's beautiful, he decides. To the point and softly lyrical in a way that Harry feels describes himself.

If the song was a person, it would be Harry definitely.

As he closes up the song, the blue-eyed boy claps, smirking.

"What's your name, Monsieur?" He quirks one side of his mouth up further than other, sideways grinning at Harry.

"I'm Harry." He says, nervously flickering a smile.

Beautiful blue-eyed boy is talking to him! And Harry is fucking nervous.

He doesn't want to say something dumb.

"Short for Harold?" He quirks his head to the side and Harry shake his head.

"Just Harry." He says, half grinning. "And you are?"

"Louis."

"And that's spelled like L-O-U-I-S?" Harry asks, feeling brazen.

"Oh, of course!" Louis laughs.

"A royal name. How befitting." Harry smiles, a languid curve of his lips.

"It is, isn't it?" He chuckles.

Harry nods slowly and then picks up the music sheets. He piles the song on top of the piano, grinning at the new song.

"Delia, these songs are ridiculous!" Harry yells and he hears Cordelia laugh.

"Are not! I love this song!" She defends, unseen in the kitchen.

"You said no Christmas songs!"

"I lied!" She snaps. "Now sing!"

Harry sighs and Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Get ready, dude." Harry says, rolling his eyes.

He begins the intro to the well-known Christmas song, wishing he was singing anything else but  _The_ Grinch'ssong.

"You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch," Harry starts, internally screaming as Louis laughs.

He'll never watch The Grinch again.

;;

Louis comes to the café every day for the next three weeks. Most of which Harry spends dedicated to two songs a night and lots of studying.

Sure, he could say screw the studying and just sing (and talk to Louis), but then what would his  _purpose_  be?

So he studies and sings and speaks. Simple enough.

It's Friday again, so Harry doesn't have to worry about (much) studying.

"I'm here!" he yells to Cordelia as he takes a seat behind the piano.

He brought his own sheet music today for a few new songs. Songs he figured might express himself.

He glances at the empty cafe, frowning because where was Louis? He's supposed to meet Harry today like always.

Harry shrugs, figuring that Louis has a lot of homework or something, before pressing his fingers onto the keys and playing the entire song of Say Something by Christina Aguilera and A Great Big World.

Halfway through, he hears Cordelia walk into the front of the cafe to listen. Of course she has a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies with her, but Harry doesn't focus on that. Just focuses on the softness of the tones in the piano and the emotion he puts into the lyrics.

When he finishes, Cordelia walks up to him and places down the plates.

"Harry Styles, you are my favourite musician." She says, shaking her head. "And you've never even written a bloody song."

Harry does write songs, but he doesn't say anything about it.

He's too worried about how shitty they probably are.

"Yeah, but neither have most famous artists." Harry laughs.

"Well, whatever. I really appreciate you singing here, Harry." She nods her head. "If you don't mind...I'd like to put up flyers because your singing is too fantastic to not get recognition."

"I'm not sure about that, Cord." Harry admits. "Stage fright and all."

"Oh! Don't be worried about that, H. You'll be brilliant." She pats his shoulder. "I've already made the flyer. Before you leave, I'll show it to you!"

"Okay," Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "D'you know where Louis is? I wanted to sing him something special."

"No...but I see the way he looks at you, you know." She laughs.

"How does he look at me?" Harry asks, gnawing on a sugar cookie painted with green and gold icing.

"Like you look at him, if that makes sense." She shrugs. "It's kinda adorable, really."

"Shush," Harry pouts.

"What're you gonna sing him anyway?"

"A song." Harry admits, vague.

"What kind of song?" She questions and Harry knows she won't give up.

"A song I wrote." Harry shrugs. "My best work."

"Where the fuck is this boy?! I want to hear this Harry Styles original song!" She snaps to no one in particular. "Of all the days not to show up..." She shakes her head. "Can't believe this shit."

"Me either, if that helps." Harry shrugs. "Next time, though."

"Yeah, whatever. Sing me a song from a movie soundtrack." She lays down in a booth, blond hair barely visible around the edge.

Harry quirks his lips to the side, shuffling through his pile of sheet music until he finds one fitting enough.

"Some saw the sun, some saw the smoke, some heard the gun, some bent the bow." Harry's voice was low and soft, husky in the most beautiful way.

He loves singing  _Coldplay_ songs just for that singular reason.

;;

The next day Louis shows up.

He's wrapped in a soft blue Christmas sweater (like always. It seems he's got an endless supply of them) and a bright red scarf. His cheeks are pink from the cold and his hair is wild and wind swept.

  
_He looks gorgeous,_  Harry thinks softly.  _Wild and gorgeous._  


Harry's situated at the piano, drinking a glass of ice water because he needs a break from hot chocolate when he speaks.

"What're we singing today, Piano Boy?"

Louis has grown fond of the nickname over the weeks while Harry's just grown fond of Louis, as cheesy as it sounds.

"An original song," Harry laughs. "Cordelia! I'm starting!"

Harry spreads the papers out on the sheet rack and begins to play.

"Who's gonna be the first one to start a fight? / Who's gonna be the first one to fall asleep at night? / Who's gonna be the last one to drive away? / Who's gonna be the last one to forget this place?"

It sounds beautiful when it's mashed together with the piano keys, Harry decides. Like soft sweaters and warm tea and Christmas lights.

After he finishes up the song, he glances up and frowns.

Both Louis and Cordelia are staring at him, jaws slack, eyes wide.

Surely it couldn't have been  _that_  bad.

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asks, flinching.

Neither of them speak for a moment, but Louis smiles.

"Wow, Styles, that was fucking beautiful." He grins, all crows feet and smile lines.

Harry wants to say, ' _You're fucking beautiful_.' but he manages to restrain himself. Barely.

"Thanks." Harry says instead, soft. "I have a few more...but they aren't nearly as good as this one."

"Sing them!" Cordelia shouts. "Sing them right now!"

"Yeah,  _no_. I'll sing an original song every day. One a day. That's it." Harry smirks.

What a great trick to get Louis to come around more often.

Harry's fucking brilliant

"Ugh," Cordelia groans. "Fine. Whatever!"

"I'll be back everyday, then." Louis laughs. "Because it the rest of your songs are half as beautiful as that one, I might be in love."

"Guess you'll have to see to find out." Harry says and pulls out the sheet music to Drops Of Jupiter by Train. "That last one was called Spaces, by the way. This one's called Drops Of Jupiter and it's by Train."

;;

By the next week, Harry's only got two original songs left.

Louis, like he'd promised, has shown up every single day to hear Harry's songs. Sometimes he brings his books so he can study in between sets and other times he helps Harry.

And honestly, Harry loves hanging out with Louis. He's a cool dude, aside from being the sassiest person Harry's ever met and a little bossy. But Harry likes it. Like  _him_.

It's Friday once more and Harry had a big French final—his last before winter break!—today. He isn't sure how he did, but feels pretty solid in the fact that he didn't fail.

It's whatever, though. All Harry can focus on is the song he's singing tonight.

He's nervous because not only is it his favourite song, it's his  _newest_  song, written less than a week ago.

And because it's for someone, although he won't admit it. Not aloud anyway.

He walks into the cafe a little later than usual because he'd had to get notes from a classmate, and sees Louis at the bar, mug of green tea in hand.

He's wearing a blue Christmas jumper with white stitching and Harry's sure he's never seen anyone so beautiful.

"Styles," Louis tisks. "You're...fifteen minutes and twenty-six seconds late."

"I apologize, sir Louis." Harry bows, figuratively grinning from ear to ear. "I will compensate for my tardiness by arriving fifteen minutes and twenty-six seconds early tomorrow."

"You better." Louis said and then laughed. "What's up on the agenda for today? Any studying before break?"

"Nah...took a giant French final today but at least it's over." Harry shrugs.

"And I drink to that!" Louis grins and sips at his tea. "Cordelia makes the best tea I've found around here."

"I know, right? I mean, I don't even  _like_  tea—"

"Wait. Wait. You don't like  _tea_? Tea is the universal drink! Everyone likes tea." Louis looks actually offended. "Americans drink tea and they have no taste whatsoever!"

"Yeah, well, I've never been too fond of it." Actually, Harry  _hates_  it.

He hates tea with his entire heart.

Probably because he'd been forced to drink so much of it growing up.

"You're lucky you're cute." Louis says, nudging Harry's side with his hand.

Harry turns away toward the piano, desperately trying to hide the blush on his cheeks.

He sits at the piano as Cordelia comes out, green mug in one hand, blue plate in the other. She places them down onto the piano, grinning.

"I'm adding to our menu. These are french toast sticks." She smiles. "And a new coffee I'm working on."

She smiles softly at him before taking a seat behind the counter.

"So, um, this song is called  _Strong_." Harry says, awkward. "And I wrote this last week-ish."

"Who's it for?" Cordelia asks, winking at Louis.

"Um..." Should he fess up? "No one in particular."

God, Harry's a fucking moron.

"Here goes nothing."

He presses his fingers against the keys, playing out the notes soft, slow and steady.

"My hands / Your hands / Tied up / Like two ships / Drifting / Weightless / Waves try to break it / I'd do anything to save it / Why is it so hard to say it?" He sings when the time comes, pouring his entire soul into his performance, determined to make it his best.

By the end of the song, he's confident in it. In himself. He drifts with the words, softening them before they pass his lips, syllables of a jovial song.

"Is it so wrong / that you make me strong?" He finishes and sucks his lips into his mouth, worried.

He doesn't look up, just grabs the green mug and sips from it, grinning at its taste.

Cordelia better add it to the menu.

"How was it?" Harry asks, sliding out from the piano bench.

Cordelia's got a doughnut in her mouth, but she grins and gives him two thumbs up.

Harry turns to Louis who's smiling softly. 

"Beautiful," he grins. "Fucking beautiful." 

"Thank you." Harry says, eyes locked with Louis'.

He has the sudden urge to announce who the song's written for and he nearly does, but then Cordelia's speaking quickly. Harry's eyes never stray from Louis', though, and Louis' never stray from Harry's.

"That was absolutely perfect, Harry! God, it was beautiful!" She claps her hands. "I hung those flyers yesterday." 

"Yeah?" Harry says, licking his lips.

He can't be sure, but it seems as though Louis' eyes follow the movement. 

"Well, not me personally. I had my girlfriend do it." She shrugs. "Jazz likes going out and doing shit in twenty degree weather." 

"Yeah, doing  _you_." Harry snickers.

He'd once caught them in the midst of one of their little flings. Horrifying, really. All vaginas and fingers and mouths.

The thought makes Harry want to vomit.

"Shut up, Styles." She warns, going back into the kitchen and leaving Harry and Louis alone.

She has no shame, honestly.

Harry sits down in the chair next to Louis, smiling softly. 

"Was it really that good?" Harry asks, nervous and fidgety and anxious all because of Louis. 

"It was that good, Harry." He smiles. "Better than the shit on the radio any day." 

"Thanks," Harry smiles, cheeks hot. "Too bad you and Delia are the only ones to have heard them."

"I uploaded a video of you to YouTube." Louis blurts out. "That first day...secretly, of course."

"Really?" Harry furrows his eyebrow. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I've seen you in the halls...and you just look like you don't belong...I mean that in the best way, of course. You're so talented and beautiful and creative. I couldn't let you throw that away." Louis says and  _did he just call Harry beautiful?_  


Harry hopes it isn't his mind fucking with him. 

"Oh, well, thank you." Harry says softly, sincere. 

"No problem, Harry." Louis says. "I've gotta get going, though. Got a paper to begin." 

"Wish I could help," Harry says as Louis stands. 

"Unless you know something about the rate of the decomposition of human flesh I don't think you'll be much help." Louis chuckles, tying his bright red scarf around his neck. "See you tomorrow?" 

"Definitely." Harry says, watching Louis as he walks out.

;;

The next day is Saturday, so Harry leaves from his dorm instead of from class.

It's snowing like a bitch when Harry leaves, though. Heavy, thick clots of frozen water blanketing everything.

It's all over the roads and sidewalks, making it icy and down right treacherous.

He almost stays at home, but then realizes he'd told Louis he'd be there and Harry isn't a liar so he goes.

Snow makes a crown on the top of his hat, sticks to his eyelashes, and blocks his vision with its pure whiteness, but he makes it to the cafe safely (after slipping several times).

He tugs off his coat and hat, tucking them on the coat rack before sitting down at the counter. 

"Snowing like a bitch out there, Delia." He says, loud enough for Cordelia to hear from the kitchen. 

"I know! I had to walk today and I think I slipped about one hundred times." She says. "Fucking December." 

"At least it's nearly Christmas." Harry says, chuckling. "I've even got a Christmas jumper on." 

"Really?" She sticks her head out from the kitchen, grinning at him. "Me too!"

Harry's got on a red sweater with white reindeer embroidered and he thinks it's decently cute. Cute enough to make him squeal when it arrived this morning. 

"You look adorable!" She coos, placing a mug down in front of Harry. "Louis is gonna die." 

"Yeah, um." Harry's not sure what to say, so he just drinks from the mug. "What's this?" 

"Tea." She says simply. "I heard that you didn't like it and, well, had to show you real tea."

Harry's eyes widen and he glares bitterly at the brown liquid in the mug. 

"How dare you trick me!" He says, offended. "I trusted you!" 

"Get over it, drama queen."

Harry quietly sips at the surprisingly good tea, bitter, and waits for Louis to show up.

An hour later, the door opens and it's Louis, dressed in a white jumper with Christmas trees on it and his signature red scarf.

He looks spectacular. 

"Hello there, Harry." Louis says, sliding into the seat next to Harry's. "What've you got today?" 

"You'll be proud of me...It's tea." He grins when Louis does. 

"I knew you weren't a wanker! Dear Christ, I thought I'd developed a crush on a douche!" Louis laughs.

Harry chokes on his tea.

Louis looks at him, blue eyes worried. 

"You okay?" He asks, patting Harry's back. 

"Yeah, yeah." Harry assures, hand pressed again his chest. 

"Good." Louis grins. "Get singing then, Piano Boy. I've got places to be." 

"Oh? Like where?" Harry scoffs.

"To my flat, of course! I'll go home and order a pizza and then drown my sorrows in the greasy cheese." He smirks. "Unless there's something else for me to drown in..."

"Um, yeah, okay." Harry stammers and then stands, leaving his tea at the counter, as he sits behind the piano.

He clears his throat, glancing at the empty cafe, before speaking. 

"This song's called Don't Let Me Go." He says.

It's the closest one to his heart. 

"Now you were standing there right in front of me / I hold on, it's getting harder to breathe / All of a sudden these lights are blinding me / I never noticed how bright they would be." He sings and for some reason unknown to him, begins to tear up.

His eyes burn with tears as he sings the verses, going along for the emotion roller-coaster that apparently came with singing this song. 

"'Cause I'm tired of sleeping alone." He finishes and then laughs at himself.

God, he's such a pussy.

But he doesn't really care. He wipes at his eyes, sniffles a few times, and then looks up. 

"Didn't expect to cry." He says, smiling and rolling his eyes at himself.

He stands up, walks back toward the counter, and sits down next to Louis, weirded out by his silence.

Louis is  _never_  quiet. 

"Harry?" Louis asks as Harry takes a large, nervous gulp of his tea. 

"Yeah?" He says, voice low and rumbly. 

"Who's the song for?"

Damn, fuck, shit, hell. How's he supposed to answer that? 

"Um...for someone special." Harry says and even he knows it's weak. 

"Is it...for Cordelia?" Louis is speaking slowly, softly, calmly.

Harry wishes he was that calm. 

"Ew! No!" Harry wrinkles his nose. "I'm not...into...girls." 

"Oh," Louis sighs, relieved at least a little.

Harry's still freaking out. Christ almighty. 

"For some boy then?" Louis ask, face placid, but Harry can see nervousness in his eyes. 

"Yeah...for some boy..." Harry takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before speaking again. "for some boy I met in a cafe. He's short and sassy and pretty. Hey, maybe you know him!" Harry grins. 

"I might." Louis says, nodding smugly. "But you should explain some more. Just so I can be sure." 

"He's got really pretty blue eyes and he rather likes Christmas jumpers. He believes tea is the, and I quote,  _"universal drink"_. He's really beautiful, if i'm being honest, but his personality is utter shit." Harry laughs, cheeks burning from smiling so wide. 

"Oh, wow. I think I know him!" Louis says, faking awe. "Royal name, right? Like Charles or something."

"Yeah! I thought you might." Harry grins. "I was gonna ask him on a date...but I'm not so sure he'd say yes to me." 

"Why, he'd be positively moronic to say no to you! You may be a little...cheesy and cliche, but you're gorgeous. Your jokes may suck, but you've got an amazing voice." Louis says, grinning. "And you're so kind. He'd be a fucking idiot."

"I guess I'll ask him out next time I see him, then." Harry sighs. "Maybe he'll wanna get cheesy pizza with cheesy me today." He says, hoping to God Louis would catch on. 

"He'd love to." Louis says. "But he's got a plane to catch."

Louis stands up and grabs his coat. 

"I'll see you around? After New Year's Day, then?" Louis says, not smiling so widely anymore. 

"You definitely will." Harry says, a little sad that Louis has to leave.

Wow, Harry's already fucking whipped. 

"Bye, H." Louis says and ducks out the door.

Harry leans back in his seat, pouting to himself. 

"Why the fuck are you still here?" Cordelia asks, popping out of the kitchen and startling Harry so much that he falls off the chair and onto his butt. 

"Shit," He says, ass aching, "What do you mean?"

"Go kiss him before he's gone!" She says. "Like in every goddamned Hallmark Christmas movie to date!" She snaps, shoving Harry hard with one hand. "Go, go, go!"

Harry looks around, before running out the door and through the snow.

He's fucking freezing, but he goes anyway, feet slipping on slick snow and ice. He stumbles forward until he sees Louis' bright red scarf in the distance. 

"Lou! Louis!" Harry yells, desperate to reach him. "Wait a second!"

The scarf stops moving and Harry runs faster. 

"Harry?" He hears faintly right as his feet slip on ice and he stumbles right into Louis' arms. 

"Oops!" Harry says, not actually sorry at all.

Louis is holding him tight, short arms squeezed around Harry's lanky body. 

"Hi." Louis says, grinning fondly. "What is it you want?"

Harry gathers himself up, standing on his own, before reaching for Louis' cheeks. 

"Merry Christmas." Harry says and presses his lips against Louis'.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's May and this was a Christmas-themed thing. Ask me if I care. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are endlessly appreciated xx


End file.
